


Who is Superboy?

by Crypticbeliever123



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce is perplexed, Clark is even more confused, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jon is sad, Lois is curious, Luthor is pissed, Martha is surprised, Nobody knows what's what, POV Multiple, Reign of the Supermen AU, Steel is confused, Superboy acts like a theater kid, Superboy as a lowkey genius, Superboy is a mystery, Superboy is such a good actor only Cass Cain can read him well enough to tell what’s true or not, Superboy's green eyes, Yellow kryptonite, jazz hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2020-09-28 05:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crypticbeliever123/pseuds/Crypticbeliever123
Summary: Following the death of Superman a new hero has arrived, Superboy, a clone who claims to have been literally born yesterday. But is he really? Is this Boy of Steel nothing more than the showboating teen he seems to be or is there more to him than meets the eye? And what happens when a villain is revealed to be good and a hero is revealed to be a villain?





	1. World Meet Superboy (Lois POV)

Lois Lane had been through a lot the past couple of weeks. Her husband, Clark Kent, Superman, was killed in an almost hopeless battle against a monster from outer space that has since become known as Doomsday. The creature had killed hundreds and left countless ruins in its wake as it came for him, for Superman. Why it had been searching for Clark and why it wanted him dead so badly no one knew, not even Bruce Wayne who was supposed to be the world’s greatest detective. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. The monster got what it wanted even at the cost of its own life. And her?

Lois lost the love of her life and father of her ten-year-old son Jon who still woke up screaming from nightmares of his father’s death. She’d have to stay with him every night and hold him as he cried himself to sleep just so that he would sleep. Needless to say, seeing your own father be brutally murdered by a mindless behemoth on television left quite a few traumas in the boy’s mind.

Following the funerals of Superman and Clark Kent, Lois threw herself into her work, desperate to try and move on from her grief. Jimmy was a sweetheart, even though he too had lost Clark, his best friend, he’d been nothing but a supportive shoulder for Lois to lean on in these difficult times, always bringing her fresh baked muffins and hot coffee from the local Jitters café. In return she did what she could to cheer him up now and again and gave him a big hug every time she saw him in the office. Though she knew Jimmy probably thought the hug was more for her own sake than his. In truth, it might have been a little of both.

Halfway through the day and Lois was busy revising a fluff piece she had written on the release of the latest Lexcorp product, a new virtual reality gaming system that had 4k graphics and stunning audio relay. It seemed trite in Lois’s opinion, creating a new VR game just like everyone else in the industry. Sure, it was a superior system, everything Lex made usually was, but it still just felt pointless after everything that had happened. Then her boss, Perry White, came up to her desk with something that wasn’t so pointless.

“Lane, robbery in progress on 38th and Siegel Avenue, hostages taken. I want you on the ground and reporting on it pronto. Take Olsen with you to work the camera. Go, go, go!”

“Yes, sir. Jimmy, we got work to do! Grab your camera!” Lois shouted out as she grabbed her gear and headed out.

“On it!”

They made it to the bank in record time and found a police barricade at the front of the bank. Lois and Jimmy quickly got to work reporting on the situation after asking a few basic questions to know what they would be reporting on.

“On the air in 3, 2,” Jimmy said, leaving off the one in place of a pointed finger as the camera got rolling.

“Good afternoon, this is Lois Lane reporting live from Shuster Bank on 38th and Siegel where a robbery is taking place. Officials say there are four perpetrators responsible for this crime and approximately twenty-three civilians being held hostage. Police have been unable to make contact with the hostage takers in order to begin negotiations but believe they can-”

A gust of air and a blur sped past them into the bank startling them out of focus.

“What was that?” Jimmy asked.

Suddenly gunshots started going off inside as two of the criminals got tossed through the doors and out of the building. More shots were fired as police moved in to try and control the situation.

“The situation has escalated. Police are moving in as we speak. It would seem from the perpetrators being thrown from the building that an as yet unidentified individual has sped into the bank in efforts to aid in the apprehension of these individuals. Hold on.”

Lois took a pause to turn around as the sound of bullets being fired ended and saw the criminals being walked away in handcuffs.

“Gunfire has ceased, and police are now filing everyone out of the building. The hostages appear to be shaken but unharmed. Excuse me, ma’am,” Lois said, approaching one of the officers, “can you tell me what just happened in there?”

“Hello Metropolis!” a voice shouted out to the crowd.

“Why don’t you ask him?” the officer replied, pointing a thumb behind her at the teenager hovering above the ground with a bright smile on his face as he waved to the onlookers and police officers.

The boy couldn’t have been older than 16. He was wearing a blue and red suit with Superman’s logo on the chest and a black jacket over top. His dark hair was cut into a fade and his face looked so much the spitting image of Clark’s high school yearbook photos that Lois was certain that his eyes would look blue behind those dark specs of his.

“Excuse me, young man, but might I ask who you are?” she questioned, approaching the teenager.

“Name’s Superboy, but don’t wear it out,” he replied, lowering his shades to wink at Lois with surprisingly green eyes.

“I see and would you care to explain these powers of yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a clone of Superman. Born yesterday. Literally.”

“Funny, I thought Superman had blue eyes, not green.”

“Yeah and he doesn’t have marble white skin and poor speech but as we’ve seen with Bizarro, cloning ain’t an exact science. Sometimes things go wrong. But enough about me. You came here to report on the bank robbery, right? Well here’s what happened. I flew in, punched the biggest guy in the face and bent his gun in half, the other three started shooting at me, bullets bounced right off; obviously. I used my heat vision and super strength to tear up a piece of the floor to use as a shield, so that when I grabbed the first guy and then a second one they wouldn’t get hit by bullets flying around when I tossed them out of the building. Then it was simply a matter of zipping up to the last two guys, crushing the gun barrels with my hands and punching them both in the face. Any questions?”

“Just one. If you’re a clone, who created you and more importantly, why?”

“That’s two questions actually but I’ll answer them anyway. I was created by an organization called Cadmus. Why they made me doesn’t matter. What matters is what I choose to do with my life and what I choose to do is to use my power to help people, protect people, just like Superman before me. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Lane, I hear a cat stuck in a tree over on Main Street, so I’ll have to catch you later. But ya know what? You being a reporter and all we’ll probably be seeing a lot more of each other so tell ya what,” he said, reaching down at his thigh holster to grab his phone from inside to hand to Lois. “You give me your number and if I ever feel like having a sit-down interview, you’ll get first dibs. Sound good?”

“Uh… okay,” Lois replied, not really sure how else to respond.

She tried taking advantage of having his phone in hand to look for his number so that she could call him for questions but found no sign of it on the device. After giving up and typing in her number she handed the phone back to the boy.

“Thanks. I’ll be in touch,” he said with a wink and a two-fingered salute as he flew off toward the East Side, leaving behind a bewildered Lois Lane who was trying to figure out what her opinions were on this kid.

He seemed nice enough, far from as humble as Clark ever was but a good kid for sure if his positive demeanor and heroic act were any indicator. But the fact he was a clone of Clark, and a clone he’d never gotten to meet was… well she was a bit uneasy about the whole concept. It was like finding out she had a long-lost stepson after losing the kid’s dad.

For a moment she wondered how Clark would’ve reacted in this situation. Would he have been happy to meet him and thought of him as a newfound son? Would he have been disturbed by the whole clone thing and brushed him off? Okay, probably not that one but still, for as well as she knew Clark, she didn’t have a freaking clue what he would’ve thought about meeting this Superboy.

She did know one thing though and quickly went to her phone’s contact list.

“Bruce, it’s Lois. I just met the most interesting person today and trust me when I say that you are definitely going to want to hear all about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	2. Case Log S-1993 (Batman POV)

“Case log S-1993 Day 16 Observation number one: Subject Designation Superboy appears to be a world class con artist as evident by his behavior and micro-expressions. Deception comes as naturally to him as breathing. Though he has yet to show any signs of malice or ill intent through his actions the very fact he lies with most every breath leads me to believe he may have ulterior motives in these seemingly heroic deeds of his. Until further research can be conducted Superboy lands squarely in the Do Not Trust column. Whether or not he’ll stay there is up to him and is dependent upon his capacity for honesty or deceit either way,” Batman stated into a recording for his file on the Superboy investigation he’d opened.

It had been about a month since Clark’s death and a little over two weeks since Lois had informed him of this new Superboy that was flying around Metropolis doing what Clark used to do… only in a more pompous fashion. It wasn’t just Superboy who was vying for the role of Metropolis’s defender. A half-robotic man claiming to be an amnesiac Superman, a robot called the Eradicator, and a guy in a metal suit calling himself Steel had been working to protect people as well. The latter was the one Batman thought was best suited out of the four of them for the hero gig.

That said, the one who raised the most questions perhaps, was Superboy himself. While the others had questionable origins as well, namely the Cyborg Superman and the Eradicator who unlike Steel were still unidentified by Batman, Superboy raised more alarms for him. It had been 20 years since the last clone of Superman, Bizarro, made his debut and for a while now everyone assumed that that experiment had been a one and done sort of deal as there had been no sign of more clones or the people who were responsible for Bizarro’s existence.

That is until now.

This Superboy had to have been made by the same people who created Bizarro and the fact they had been continuing work on their cloning efforts without being found by the League or Batman was concerning to say the least. Was Superboy their only successful attempt or were there others who didn’t stray from their creators? Were there other Superboys or Bizarros out there and if so, were they relatively harmless like Bizarro had proven to be or could they pose an actual threat as Batman was starting to suspect Superboy might be?

Two weeks into observing the boy through news footage and a bat-drone he had sent to Metropolis to keep an eye on the various wannabe Supermen flying around, and Batman had noticed that while the boy acted like he wasn’t taking anything he did seriously and treating everything like a game, his behavior was just that; an act. Every time he’d show up to a fight, he’d wave a hand down in front of his face, like how drama kids do when demonstrating a switch between the sad and happy theater masks, and then do jazz hands while saying “Showtime!” before moving in, possibly finding it as a tactic to make himself seem less serious. Another thought, however, was that this action was symbolic of him putting on a mask, an act, before doing anything in the public eye. Though he’d feign carelessness his movements seemed calculated and what Lois had said about him taking the bank robber’s vulnerability to bullets and their proximity to him as a target into account before throwing them out of the building sounded like he actually was taking things seriously.

If he was more thought out than he pretended to be then A) he was smarter than he let on and B) he was purposefully downplaying his abilities, possibly to lull people into a false sense of security or make himself go underestimated by his enemies. Question was, who all did he count as his enemies?

Batman watched the interview Cat Grant did with him on Daily Planet Tonight and struggled to spot micro-expressions showing deceit so much so that he enlisted his daughter Cass to assist him, as her background made her an expert on reading people. She was able to determine three things. One: he was a very gifted actor and liar. Two: his claims of having been born the day before he met Lois were certainly a lie. And perhaps most importantly, number three: he felt unease whenever the topic of Superman was brought up.

It wasn’t hard to guess why. He was the man’s clone and he’d never gotten the chance to meet him, to know what he would’ve thought of him. There could perhaps be some feelings of things being unresolved for him in that manner. Or it could have to do with why he was created in the first place which he avoided answering questions about like the plague. The most likely reason Batman could think of was that Superboy and Bizarro alike were created as weapons to serve some nefarious purpose and thus talking about a hero he was related to when he was created for a destiny as a villain might have been unsettling. Or it could be any number of other reasons out there. The human mind was complex enough and Batman could only imagine how much could go through the mind of a Kryptonian.

It was already clear to Batman that the boy was putting on a deception. The only question was, why did he feel the need to put on the act in the first place?

* * *

Over three weeks investigating Superboy and Batman has made another observation that may prove useful in determining the full extent of the boy’s origins.

“Case log S-1993 Day 25 Observation number two: Subject Designation Superboy would seem to hold a great disdain for Lex Luthor as evidenced from his frequent defacing of the man’s billboards.”

Whether it be ones for his 2020 presidential campaign that he painted Hitler mustaches and devil horns on or Lexcorp billboards that he wrote derogatory messages on, the boy just couldn’t seem to resist defacing any Luthor related billboard he came across. Batman never liked Luthor. Despite a lack of evidence to back it up, though that hardly counted for anything, he always struck Batman as the shady and corrupt type you usually find in multi-billion-dollar corporations. So, to see his billboards be spray painted over with speech bubbles that said things like “A vote for me is a vote for fascism” was admittedly a pleasant sight.

Though Batman knew that if Clark were alive, he’d disagree. The boy scout never seemed to see what he could in Luthor, always naively seeing the best in people and only the best. Clark even counted Luthor as one of his friends in life and the two frequently had lunch together.

If Batman could’ve rolled his eyes any harder, he would have. He was fully convinced that Lex didn’t see Clark the way he had seen him, rather viewing him as a means to paint a better public image of himself by befriending a top reporter at one of the best news outlets in the country. Luckily Lois had good sense unlike her deceased husband and had the same reservations about him that Batman had, which was probably why Luthor tended to avoid spending time with Clark when he was also with her or their son. Lois would’ve only grown to distrust Luthor more over time and come to resent him being around her kid to the point where she’d influence Clark’s opinion of him until he started to dislike him as well.

But this wasn’t Lois he was looking into.

* * *

“Case log S-1993 Day 31 Observation number three: Subject Designation Superboy, despite appearing to have a greater tolerance for kryptonite compared to Superman, appears to hold a greater fear of the element as evident by his facial expressions and hesitance in a recent battle against the criminal Metallo.”

Just that morning Superboy had been cornered by Metallo, who after escaping prison wanted revenge on Superman and fully believed that A) the Cyborg was Superman and B) that he’d come to Superboy’s rescue. Superboy, who normally took to his battles head-on, kept to dodging his opponent’s attacks rather than dishing them out for himself.

He seemed openly scared, which was surprising given his advanced ability to hide the things going through his mind. Hm.

“Case log S-1993 Day 31 Observation number four: Subject Designation Superboy appears to lose his ability to maintain a façade while under duress such as fear. Whether or not this holds true for other stressors is unclear at the present time but will be investigated in the future,” Batman added to his recording before pressing stop. “Alfred.”

“Good afternoon, Master Bruce, I just thought I’d remind you that you have a meeting scheduled with Damian’s principal for four o’clock today.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then I assume you are also aware that it is twelve minutes until four and that traffic is backed up all along the roads leading from Wayne Manor, or should I remind you that the principal has stated that if you are late to another important meeting regarding Damian’s behavior that she’d skip the formalities of giving you a chance to speak up on his behalf and go straight to dolling out the most severe punishment the situation would allow? Or that in this case the most severe punishment would be expulsion?”

*sigh* He’d have to question the origin of Superboy’s kryptonite phobia at another time. Right now, he had to see to his most difficult job of all, being a father to one of many unruly kids who sought to raise his blood pressure at any given moment.

“I’ll take the Batmobile, hopefully get there in time.”

“My thoughts exactly, Master Bruce. I already have a change of clothes prepared for you in the trunk of the car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Who is Alexander Luthor Jr? (Lex POV)

It had been two months since that so-called Superman died. Two months since his son Alexander Luthor Junior escaped from Cadmus and stole his bank account. Not money _from_ his bank account, _the_ bank account itself, or at least the one he kept in the Cayman Islands to hide his less than legal operations and funding. As outraged as he was, he had to admit, he was impressed with the boy.

Not surprising given the boy had excellent genes. He possessed incredible power from the Kryptonian DNA he was given and more importantly he had inherited Luthor’s brilliant intellect to back it up. With this perfect combination of brawn and brains, he was easily Lex’s greatest creation and the one he was fondest of. His fondness for the boy only made him all the more infuriated when he attacked him and his Cadmus lackies in order to escape so that he could go on to become this ‘Superboy’. It had taken years to get the boy to the level of skill he was at and not only did he use that skill against him, his own father, but he also threw away his potential just to go off and play superhero like that pompous idiot that Superman was.

It had taken a full ten months to not only get the genome sequence just right but to grow the boy to infancy. Five years were spent raising, training, teaching him under yellow sun lamps before he developed signs of his first power; super strength. Another three months before he showed invulnerability. By the time Alexander was six he had managed to develop most of his Kryptonian abilities including flight, super speed, telescopic vision, microscopic vision, infrared, and heat vision. The other abilities didn’t seem to come in as they should have, suggesting the lack of sufficient Kryptonian DNA left the boy missing certain traits.

No matter. Luthor and his team were able to correct these failings through surgery done when he was eight years old. One done to his eyes and the visual processing center of his brain in order to give him X-ray capabilities and his lungs were operated on to produce super and arctic breath respectively. After ensuring the boy met his standards regarding the Kryptonian aspect of his genetic capacity Luthor went out of his way to make certain the boy met the standards for the Luthor genetics as well. He did this by taking it upon himself to teach Alexander everything he knew; math, science, history, languages from around the world and beyond, cultures both domestic and foreign, geography, and most importantly strategy.

Luthor was an expert strategist and needed to make sure his son, the most powerful weapon in his arsenal, was one as well. He started on this through games of chess that were meant to hone the boy’s ability to think several steps ahead of his opponent. As bright as the boy was Luthor was more so and it wasn’t until Alexander was thirteen that he was actually able to beat him in a game of chess.

Chess wasn’t the only game he’d play with him to hone his boy’s strategic mind. There were also virtual reality war simulations, often based on famed historical battles including the Trojan War, though usually with some alterations to keep his son on his toes. These war games were as much a test of Alexander’s quick thinking and his ability to react to sudden changes and adapt his strategy as they were a way to see just how much of their history lessons he was truly retaining. In these the boy fell rather flat, becoming too overwhelmed by the high-quality graphics of death and destruction that he often just gave up in the middle of it from panic attacks. This would not do.

The boy was meant to be a weapon, the ultimate weapon in his quest of ridding the world of alien scum such as Superman. He could not have his weapon break down in the middle of battles. If he couldn’t handle so much as the simulations, then what would he do in a real fight? Needless to say, the boy’s failures in the war games were often met with strict discipline often involving purple kryptonite barbed wires wrapped tight around him as large amounts of electricity circulated throughout.

Ah, purple kryptonite, an artificial form he had invented that could cause injuries to a Kryptonian that would not heal at all without cauterization via a laser and green kryptonite. It was one of many Luthor had designed and tested on Alexander. The red variety caused his son to develop high aggression levels and a swelled ego, what he liked to call an angry god complex. The blue version showed no affect on Alexander but did yield results when used against Bizarro, the ultimate failure and embarrassment. There was a silver kryptonite that acted akin to the Gotham villain Scarecrow’s fear toxin. The gold version could inhibit the boy’s ability to process yellow sunlight, effectively stripping him of his powers, for seventy-two hours. Then there was the yellow kryptonite. This one was one he partially resented himself for making as it was found to make Kryptonians stronger when exposed to it. While useful for his purposes with the boy, the idea of Superman ever having his hands on it always made him uneasy. Luckily, he was dead now, so that worry was gone.

Were the punishments and experimentation harsh? Yes. Would legal authorities regard it as child abuse? Of course. Luthor wasn’t an idiot. He knew full well what he was doing to the boy wasn’t right. Did he care? No. Though he saw the boy as his son and held affection for him in his heart, Alexander was a weapon first and foremost. He was not a child that needed to be coddled and wrapped in warm hugs until he smiled. He was a weapon that needed to be molded to suit his purpose. If that meant harming the boy, scarring him for life, so be it. Though as far as scars go only physical ones were acceptable to him.

If Alexander were scarred mentally from his training or discipline, then he might not perform as well in the field as he would one day need to. The mind was a tool, a weapon when properly honed. If his son lost any control over his own mind, if it became dulled, fragile, and weak he would be as good as useless to him. For that reason, Lex brought in renowned psychiatrist Dr. Hugo Strange every week to assess the boy’s mental state. The doctor’s conclusions were that though the boy was not without his traumas, he was still at a state that his mind was sharp and that he could still function well as a living weapon so long as Luthor didn’t exacerbate the amount of punishment the boy endured.

Luthor wasn’t a cruel man… in his own mind anyway. He only punished Alexander when he failed him or disobeyed him. Though the punishments were inhumane they were not, in Lex’s opinion, uncalled for. Fortunately, as his son grew, he became much more adept at fulfilling his wishes, succeeding in the war games, his studies, their chess games, and most importantly his combat training with Mercy.

The boy had been taught to fight since he could walk. He needed to know how to hold himself in battle and most importantly, how to win. The fact that Superman clearly showed no combat skills at all meant nothing. If that Wonder Woman or Aquaman, or literally any League member who actually had been trained in any of the martial arts were to go up against the boy without him being properly versed in the art he would lose and lose badly. Luckily, Alexander had shown a high aptitude for Mercy’s teachings, being able to hold his own in a fight with her even while under red sun lamps with both hands tied behind his back. Oh, how proud his son made him.

Now if only he could manage to get him back to Cadmus where he belonged instead of flaunting about in this idiotic charade as Superboy, doing jazz hands before every battle for god knows what reason, then everything would be alright again. He’d have his son at home and by his side and he wouldn’t suffer the torment of seeing Alexander act the fool on national television. He knew his son wasn’t like this. His son was smart, disciplined, refined, strategic. He was not this showboating brat that made a mockery of all he worked so hard for. He knew Alexander. He knew his son…

Right? Of course he did! Alexander was better than this and Luthor knew it as well as he knew his own name. Still, he never would’ve imagined that his son would flee from him or Cadmus in the first place, so it was possible there was a side to him he didn’t see. Preposterous! Lex had raised the boy dammit! He knew his son. He knew him inside and out. He knew how he thought, how he walked, how he talked, how he behaved. He knew Alexander better than anyone! He was his own flesh and blood! How dare he betray him like this! How dare he betray his own father! He gave him everything, taught him everything he knew, and this was how he repaid him! How could a child do this to his own father?!

…

Child. Right. That must’ve been it. He always treated him as a weapon rather than a child. He was a weapon, that was his whole purpose for being… but he was still only a child. He could see it clearly now. All those punishments in all those years had made the boy, his boy, resent him. They made him see him as a tyrant perhaps. Not so unlike the Alexander Lex himself was named after.

* * *

Lex turned off the news and dropped down onto his couch with a sigh. His living room was in shambles after his outburst. Seeing his own son wear the symbol of the man he had always hated most was frustrating and Luthor knew it was meant to, meant to serve as a deliberate stab in the back and in the heart to the man who poured everything he had into making Alexander Luthor Junior, his son, his greatest creation perfect. In hindsight, Lex supposed he should have seen this coming for years now. Strange had said that the boy possessed a level of fear toward him and for the longest time he had seen that as a good thing, a way to instill respect just by words alone.

Fear and respect might have gone hand in hand, but respect and love were two very different things. His boy feared him. But he didn’t love him. And after years of growing up knowing his parents loved their money more than their own son, all Lex wanted was to be loved, by the public, by his heartless parents, by his distant sister, but especially by his son. You would think he’d have learned something growing up the son of Lionel and Lillian Luthor about how to lose the love of your children, but alas it seemed Lex still had much to learn.

No matter. He would bring his son back into the fold. He would regain what was his. And when all was said and done, he would have his son’s love just as he already had his fearful respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Oh if only Lex realized that you couldn't love someone and fear them at the same time)
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think!


	4. Jon's Lament (Jon Kent POV)

Jon Kent was your typical ten-year-old kid. He rode his bike with his friends. He played fetch with the family dog. He did his homework. He was typical in every way… except that he was the son of Superman and had superpowers.

Son of Superman. If he had told anyone that fact just a few short months ago he’d have done so ecstatically. Now, however, he felt a twinge of pain in his chest whenever he thought about his dad. After all, he was dead. He’d died a hero’s death, saving the whole world from an out of control monster that sought to kill everything in sight.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, not long after his dad died his grandfather passed away too from a heart attack. The elder Jonathon Kent had been so distraught at the loss of his adopted son that he threw himself into his work on the farm. It wore him out and eventually the strain was too much for his heart to bear. Now Jon was down two family members and had been to two different funerals in the same year.

When he first heard that his dad was gone, he wondered what Metropolis would do without him. Would it be the same as it ever was or would the loss of its hero bring about a dark age for Metropolis, turning it into Gotham City’s twin? He didn’t have to wonder what Metropolis would do without his dad though as new heroes came in to fill his shoes.

There was Steel, a man in a suit of armor that beat up bad guys with a hammer. From what he saw on the news, his dad would’ve liked him. He fought for truth and justice and had a heart of gold underneath all that steel. The Eradicator seemed terrifying and more villain than hero. He was way too brutal against criminals, kind of like his friend Damian’s dad if he was a Kryptonian. Superboy was his dad’s clone and in a way, Jon saw him as his older brother of sorts. He wished his dad had lived to see him. He’d have brought him into the family immediately. But the Cyborg Superman that was flying around claiming to be his father but with no real memories of his life outside of heroics? The thought of that killed him.

Tears fell every time he saw a news report on the alleged Superman. If he really was his dad then he wouldn’t know him, wouldn’t love him anymore. It was like losing him then being forced to watch his zombie parade around ignoring you. And if it wasn’t his dad then what kind of sick joke was this? Who would dare mess with him like this? Didn’t this guy know that Superman had people who loved him? People who missed him? Did he really think that his dad was just some alien who showed up one day and started saving people and that the Justice League were the only ones he cared about?

He knew it was pointless to be mad at someone for these things. After all, it was pretty much the general belief of everyone that his dad was both born and raised on Krypton and no one really knew he’d had parents on Earth that raised him. No one knew Superman was married to Lois Lane or that he was a father. No one knew that Superman had a kid out there… right here… who was mourning him and in pain every day because he was going through life without his dad anymore and watching a bunch of guys fly around trying to be him or worse, claiming they were him.

His dad was a hero and here he was being upset about people trying to live up to his legacy. But he was his father’s legacy. He was the son of Superman. He was Kryptonian as much as he was human. If anyone should be flying around in a cape it should be him… Right?

He looked up to the sky every day and wondered why he wasn’t up there, flying around and saving people just like all the other Supermen. His dad always talked about using his powers for good because it was the right thing to do, helping people who needed help, saving people who needed saving. And here he was with the power to do just that. He could do that. He could put on a cape and fly out and help people, save people, save the whole city or even the world.

So why didn’t he? Why couldn’t he just bring himself to make up a costume and put it on and rush out at the first sign of trouble to do some hero work? His dad did it. His friend Damian does it and so does his whole family. So why couldn’t he?

“Jon, dinner’s ready!” his mom called out from the kitchen.

Oh right. That’s why. His mom had already lost his father. If he went out to do what he did he’d wind up scaring the crap out of her. She’d probably fuss over him all the time and worry that he’d get hurt or wind up dead. And what if he did wind up dead? Who would be here for her then? If Jon died then his mom would’ve lost her only child and if how his grandma Martha reacted to his dad’s death was any indicator, there was no worse pain a mother could go through than losing her child. He couldn’t do that to her. Even if he didn’t die, he couldn’t put her through the stress of not knowing if he’d live long enough to make it home for curfew or long enough to make it out of grade school.

Maybe one day he’d put on a cape but for now his mom needed him, and in the meantime, Metropolis already had four Supermen to protect them. They could always wait a bit for another, couldn’t they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! I always love hearing your thoughts.


	5. Enter the Fortress (John Henry Irons POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since an update. I kind of got bored with the story and gave up on it but recently I got a comment on it, and with corona going on to free up all my time, and this story already having been previously outlined enough I figured I'd give it another shot at completion.

Well, weren’t they an unusual group; Steel, the Cyborg Superman, and the Superboy. If you asked John six months ago where he’d be right now, he definitely wouldn’t have said he’d be heading to the North Pole with Superman’s flamboyant clone and a cyborg claiming to be the original. Man, things have gotten weird since he built his armor. All he wanted to do was put his tech to good use like Superman once encouraged him to. Teaming up with what the media considered to be a bunch of Superman wannabes was not exactly on the to do list, but with the Eradicator being as brutal against crime as he was, they needed to put a stop to the robot.

The Cyborg who may or may not have been Superman mentioned in their last battle with the robot where the three of them teamed up to stop it from wrecking downtown Metropolis, or more of it than it did, that he’d tracked the robot to the Arctic Circle. So, here they were flying toward the North Pole with Superboy cracking jokes about maybe meeting Santa Claus on the way, needing to rescue the jolly old man from the Eradicator, or the Eradicator actually being one of Santa’s toys turned evil like in the Santa Clause 2.

Man, he couldn’t stand that kid! Superboy was nice enough and seemed to be a good person, but he just couldn’t seem to take anything seriously, treated everything like a game (even bringing up scores and points every now and again), and had this cocky, showboating attitude that just grated on him. According to the boy himself, the kid was an exact duplicate of the original Man of Steel, but between his very distinct personality and the fact some of his features were off, namely his eyes, he had a hard time believing it.

“Is it just me or is that a building made of ice?” Superboy asked, causing him to take note of a massive structure glistening in the sun ahead.  
“That’s no building, that’s a fortress!” Steel replied.  
“Fortress? Cool! Like Dungeons and Dragons! I call Barbarian!”  
“Seriously, kid, are you allergic to taking things seriously or something?”  
“Focus, men, the Eradicator is in that building and if it is a fortress of some kind there will no doubt be traps. Stay sharp. We’re going in,” the Cyborg Superman said, drifting down toward the entrance.

They came upon a giant door and push all they might, they couldn’t get it open. Not even heat vision affected it.

“Uh guys?” Superboy asked.  
“Maybe if I can adjust the settings on my hammer, we could use a sonic attack in conjuncture with your heat vision to break it down,” Steel suggested to the cyborg, ignoring Superboy.  
“You guys?” the boy said again.  
“Perhaps, but if that doesn’t work then maybe we could-” the Cyborg Superman said.  
“YOU GUYS!” Superboy shouted, finally gaining their attention.  
“What?” the Cyborg Superman snapped, surprising John who’d never heard Superman lose his temper with anyone.  
“I found the key. It’s pretty heavy. Like so heavy it was probably designed so that only Superman could lift it. Luckily, I’m as strong as he ever was,” Superboy said, hefting an enormous golden key onto his shoulder while flexing his other arm.  
“You mean as strong as _I am_. Nice work, Superboy,” the cyborg said, taking the key from him and inserting it into the keyhole on the door.

With just a twist the door opened for them. The three glanced around the foyer, stepping cautiously across the threshold.

“Race ya to the Eradicator!” Superboy said, taking off at the speed of sound.  
“You idiot, wait up before you get yourself killed!” Steel shouted, chasing after him with the Cyborg Superman by his side.

The two of them meet up with Superboy at the entrance of a large chamber and find Superboy… hiding? From the Eradicator? Something was up. Superboy was never this cautious.

“What gives?” Steel asked the boy in a whisper.  
“Steel, look around the corner and don’t say one word before I know what this means.”  
“Know what what means?” Steel asked, peeking around the corner to see the Eradicator standing on a platform, energy seemingly draining from him and transferring into a pod containing… “SUPERMAN?!” Steel shouted in surprise, drawing the robot’s attention as well as that of the cyborg who claimed he was Superman.

The Eradicator flew off the platform and slammed Steel against the wall. Superboy knocked the robot away and pulled the other hero loose from the icy wall.

“Thanks,” he said.  
“Don’t mention it… Hey, where’s-” Superboy asked, turning to see the Cyborg Superman approaching the pod containing the long-haired, scruffy-faced, black suit wearing Superman.  
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding, Kal-El. I knew you couldn’t be dead,” he said, “not until I’ve had my revenge!”

The cyborg raised both fists and attempted to bring them down on the pod only for Superboy to pull him away before they could damage the pod or its inhabitant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think down below.


	6. Superman Meets Superboy (Clark POV)

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a man’s voice asked that Clark could just barely make out.

It sounded familiar, though. Someone he saved once, maybe?

“Destroying the man who failed me when I needed him most,” a voice that sounded almost like his own said as Clark opened his eyes to see a cybernetic version of himself leaping at an armor-plated hero who seemed to struggle to hold him back.

He then turned his attentions toward a teenager in a leather jacket that looked more and more like him the more things came into focus.

“Uh, what?” Clark asked groggily as he regained consciousness as the boy wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Long story. I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to get you out of here and as far away from him as I can,” the boy said, nodding in the cyborg’s direction.

“What the-” Clark said in shock as a man wearing goggles flew into the room, its eyes first going to the armor-clad man and the cyborg before landing on the boy and himself. “Who is that?”

Goggles charged at them, grabbing the kid by the neck and ramming him into the nearest wall.

“The Eradicator… a robot that had you kept in a pod,” the boy struggled to say as he tried to pry the robot’s fingers off his throat.

“To protect the last son of Krypton. My duty is to the House of El and you and your fellow trespassers shall not be allowed to harm him.”

“They’re not harming me. They’re saving me,” he said before the cyborg shot heat vision at the armored one, who blocked with his hammer. “Well, most of them are saving me. I’m not sure what that one’s doing, but look, if your duty is to my family’s house then let the boy go.”

The Eradicator studied Clark for a moment.

“Let. The boy. Go,” Clark said, serious enough as he tried to summon his heat vision to intimidate the robot (could robots be intimidated? He’d never been clear on that) only to find a surprising lack of heat in his eyeballs.

“Very well,” the robot said, releasing its grip on the boy.

Just as he did, the cyborg seemed to get the better of his opponent, knocking him to the ground, visibly wounded as his suit was dented in several places. Assuming the armor was made to fit him perfectly, there were probably a few broken ribs under there. Not that he could see since his X-ray vision doesn’t seem to want to work either.

The cyborg turned to the three of them.

“Hello, Superman… and goodbye!” the cyborg said, firing heat vision at the Kryptonian only for the Eradicator to leap in front and block with heat vision of his own.

“Go! Take Kal-El away from here, somewhere safe. He is too weak to fight! Go now!” the Eradicator insisted before rushing at the cyborg look-alike, slamming him through several walls.

“Steel, you alright?” the boy asked as the armored man, Steel, got to his feet, clutching his side.

“I’ll be fine. Get the big guy out of here, Superboy. The Eradicator and I will hold off the homicidal maniac.”

“Right,” Superboy (Superboy? Since when is there a Superboy?) agreed with a nod, grabbing Clark and taking off before he could object.

And boy did he object.

“Let me go! We have to go back there! They need our help!” he insisted of the one Steel had called Superboy.

“First of all, the Eradicator said you were too weak to fight and quite frankly I believe him because according to every news report I’ve found, when you want to intimidate someone you light up your eyes with heat vision and you couldn’t seem to do that earlier with the Eradicator. Second of all, Steel and the robot are more than capable of holding their own against that Cyborg Superman,” Superboy said, flying them away from some icy fortress in what looked to be the Arctic Circle.

“Cyborg what?”

“Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, is there any place safe you can think of to hide out in? Not Metropolis. Metropolis is the first place the cyborg would think to look for you.”

“There is one place, but I don’t know who you are or if I can trust you.”

“I’m your clone, if you can’t trust me who can you trust?” Superboy said with a smile.

“My WHAT?!”

“Cllloooonnne. C-L-O-N-E. Clone. You do remember what that word means, right or does having been dead or comatose for six months have an impact on your memory?”

“SIX MONTHS?!”

“Hey. Focus. Hiding place. Need one. ASAP.”

“Clone, huh?” Clark said, considering how much he could trust a kid who was made presumably to replace him after… after his apparent death.

He’d been dead. Or assumed dead. Either way, that would take some getting used to.

“Smallville, Kansas. Take me there. There are a couple people on a farm I’d like to check in on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think down below!


	7. Clark Needs a Haircut (Martha Kent POV)

Martha Kent sat on her porch swing, a cup of tea in hand. It had been six months since she lost her son and just a touch less than that since she’d become a widow. Every day she missed them terribly. Her husband, Jonathon, had been the light of her life, and when Clark had come crashing in, he’d become her whole world.

She’d become a mother in the blink of an eye when she’d previously been told she would never have kids. Because of that she’d been unprepared for a baby when she and Jonathon found this new little bundle of joy in their field and had to rush to the store to buy supplies for him. But it had been well worth the hecticness of getting ready for a baby after it had already arrived. She’d found a child in an instant.

She’d lost her child in an instant.

Clark was gone and so too was her husband whose heart couldn’t bear the pain of their loss and just gave out. She’d lost her world. She’d lost her light. She was so heartbroken she didn’t think anything could take her pain away.

Not until her world came back. This time with much less crashing.

“Ma,” an all too familiar voice said as a shadow crossed her porch.

She looked up to see none other than her son, alive and well in need of a haircut and a shave, being carried over to her by a boy who looked the spitting image of Clark when he’d been a teenager.

“Clark?” Martha said, dropping her teacup to the ground as she rushed up to her shaggy-haired son as he landed on the grass in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around him, hoping that the vision wouldn’t disappear, hoping that he really had come home to her.

“Ahem,” the boy with Clark said loudly. “Can we please move this touching family reunion indoors? Ya know, just in case that cyborg maniac somehow shows up looking for you?”

“Who’s your friend?” Martha asked.

“Seriously? Do you not watch the news?” the boy asked.

“I don’t own a TV, bad for your eyes. Always gave pa too many headaches the one time we did get one.”

“Internet?”

“Smallville’s a bit behind the times. Folks who come here say we’re still stuck in the 50s, but with much less racism.”

“Cell service? I mean you have to know people from out of town, right?”

“Well, Lois Lane is on my speed dial, but she never mentioned someone like you. Though I reckon if that has something to do with why you look like my son when he was a boy, I’d understand her reluctance to mention you.”

The boy rolled his eyes at her. Clearly, he was too accustomed to modern technology to believe anyone could go without. Now, Smallville wasn’t an Amish community or anything. It had technology. It just wasn’t as up to date as it could have been.

She looked over at Clark and saw him frowning awfully hard.

“You said ‘_I_ don’t own a TV’. Don’t you mean we?”

The smile on Martha’s face fell flat when she realized she’d have to break the news to her recently-returned-from-the-dead son.

“Oh, son… pa, he… He um, he had a heart attack. He didn’t make it,” she struggled to say, looking up to see her boy’s eyes well up with tears. She wrapped her arms around him once more so they could cry together.

The boy, who seemed to have not been raised with manners, cleared his throat again, gesturing toward the house before looking over his shoulder. Clark pulled away and nodded.

“Right. Superboy’s right. We should get inside. No telling if we’d been followed,” Clark said, leading Martha inside as the boy (Superboy? There’s a Superboy now? Did Clark have a sidekick? Oh Lord, he was becoming Bruce) followed them in.

“I’ll make some more tea. Then you’re telling me everything. Where you’ve been, why you didn’t let me know you were alive, who this Superboy is, and why you haven’t cut your hair in six months.”

“Ma,” Clark fake-whined as she ruffled his hair.

She glanced back at Superboy over her shoulder. He really did look like Clark at that age. It was uncanny. Did Clark have some long lost son neither of them knew about all these years or was this something else? And why did the boy seem so anxious? Clark had said something about possibly being followed. Could they be in danger?

She didn’t know who this Superboy was or what his connection was to Clark. All she knew was that this boy had brought her son home to her, and that no matter who he was, if he was in trouble she’d be right there to help out. Though her maiden name was Clark she believed in the Kent family motto as much as her husband had, to help others in need no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	8. Don't Call Me a Damsel (Lois POV)

In the months since the Cyborg Superman first appeared claiming to be her dead husband, one question had laid in the back of Lois’s mind. Who was he really?

She knew her husband. She knew Clark well enough to know that this Cyborg wearing his face, or half of it as the case may be, wasn’t him at all.

She’d been hot on the case, leaving no stone unturned as she puzzled out the answer. In doing this, she’d found a suspicious connection between this Cyborg Superman and the dead astronaut, Hank Henshaw.

Henshaw had died along with the rest of his crew, or seemingly did, when Doomsday arrived. Following the cyborg’s appearance, the grave of Henshaw’s wife had been visited every week with flowers left over it despite her having had no living relatives and all her friends having been on board the ship when Doomsday tore through it. Furthermore, following the devastation of the ship, Lexcorp had made efforts to recover the bodies of the lost crew, only no body for Hank Henshaw had been found while the rest of the crew’s had been recovered.

That alone struck Lois as suspicious. She’d never really been a fan of Luthor’s despite being a friend of her incredibly trusting, positive, and naïve husband who always saw the best in people, even in some cases, namely Luthor’s, where Lois thought there wasn’t much good to see. Years of dealing with her father and his associates gave her a fairly decent ability to spot a lying, deceitful, or manipulative person just from their facial expressions.

Lex never once looked like anything less than a snake to her whenever she saw him, with or without Clark having been present.

She had just found a lead on the Henshaw-Luthor-Cyborg Superman connection and was about to call Bruce for some expert hacking assistance in checking it out when Steel of all people came crashing through the window of the Daily Planet, plowing through several cubicles.

Then the detached metallic head of the Eradicator clunked gently inside, having been lightly tossed through the broken window by none other than the Cyborg Superman himself who hovered there not looking like he was even trying to play Superman anymore.

“Where. Is. He?” the cyborg asked in a cruel voice.

“Where’s who?” Lois asked.

She turned to Steel as he slowly rose from the office rubble, though not quite able to get back to his feet.

“Superman. He’s alive… and it’s not him,” the steel-clad hero struggled to get out before collapsing from either pain or exhaustion; Lois wasn’t sure which.

“This place, you people seem to matter a hell of a lot to him, so it only makes sense that Superboy would’ve brought him here after escaping the Arctic,” the cyborg Lois was certain was Henshaw said with a cold angry radiating off of him.

“The Arctic? What, did Kal think polar bears could save him after Doomsday attacked? Listen, Henshaw, I don’t know what—” Lois tried to say before being grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall.

She struggled in the chokehold for a moment before Cyborg Superman spoke.

“How… do you… know… my… name?” he said menacingly.

Lois clawed at his hand as she tried to take in even a single breath.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” Henshaw screamed as he threw Lois out the window.

He flew out and caught her by the back of her blouse’s neckline like she were a kitten being grabbed by the scruff of her neck just as she collided with the windows of the building across the street.

“You know, something just occurred to me,” he said in a more calm manner, which Lois took as a bad sign.

“Yeah,” she coughed, finally able to breathe again, “what’s that?”

“Every time you’re in danger, Superman comes to the rescue.”

“So, he’s Superman. That’s what he does. He saves people.”

“He didn’t save my wife, my crew, my friends. Everyone I ever cared about was killed when Doomsday showed up and he couldn’t be bothered to come and save us… No, you’re special. There have been times where Superman’s dealing with a bigger threat and he ditches it to go save your sorry little damsel ass.”

Lois stabbed the fleshy half of his face with a shard of glass that had broken off in her collision. Luckily, his skin wasn’t as bullet-proof as Clark’s.

“Who are you calling a damsel?”

He pulled the shard from his face and dropped it unceremoniously.

“Maybe not such a damsel but even Luthor sees some sort of connection between you and that pompous Kryptonian.”

“So, you admit you have a connection to Lex Luthor and to Lexcorp? What’d he do, Henshaw? Was Lex the one that turned you into this monster?”

“Luthor’s the one that saved my life!” he shouted.

A moment passed.

“But not your wife’s?”

Henshaw’s cybernetic eye glowed red with its artificial heat vision and she started to regret having spoken, but didn’t once let it show.

Then Henshaw laughed.

“Oh, you will make excellent bait, Mrs. Lane. And when Superman comes, I will finally have my revenge,” Henshaw said before flying off with Lois in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought down below!


End file.
